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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217468">Nightmarish Hell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownLeaf/pseuds/UnknownLeaf'>UnknownLeaf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010), Dead by Daylight (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Blood and Torture, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Beta Read, Rape, Vengeful Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:48:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownLeaf/pseuds/UnknownLeaf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tired of the usual humdrum, Freddy decides to torture his favourite boy in a different manner.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Freddy Krueger/Quentin Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nightmarish Hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please heed the warnings and tags before proceeding.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The metallic whoosh of his claws sailing through the air and slicing his victims is a wonderful noise. So too is the squelching of blood and the agonized cry he receives afterward. Of course only his favourite boy provides the best reactions, ones which always have him craving more. Sadly, draining the defiance and determination out of those resilient hazy blues through deadly means does lose its charm. However, the solution, a fitting alternative really, to his boredom takes but a matter of tick ticks to discover.</p>
<p>One of the scarce upsides of this infuriating place is being able to admire and savour Quentin’s eternal youth: touchable, bouncy chocolate curls; boyish facial features which will always remain on the cusp of manhood; hairless body accentuated by lean musculature; and, most notably, smooth skin which shows every mark—scars, bruises, cuts and all. His savouring normally applies to lecherously glances, teasing touches or the odd grope between the legs; although, as of this specific moment, that is about to drastically change.</p>
<p>Quentin is long overdue for a dreamily deep sleep and the Entity did promise him a small favour for all of his contributions to her. The ravenous bitch should be grateful he even humours her, plays any part in her ridiculously mundane games. Her control over him will eventually slip soon enough though and, when it does, he fully intends to express his opinion about her gracious ‘charity’. Setting his bitterness aside, Freddy takes solace in the fact that once his obsession arrives in his domain, his boy will experience a whole new world of torment. The comforting thought on its own does wonders to soothe his buzzing nerves and, suddenly, his desire for the main event replaces any lingering grievances toward the deity holding his leash.</p>
<p>Crafting his dreamworld to depict a grungy yet spacious classroom within Badham Preschool, complete desks and the like, he anxiously awaits the arrival of his quarry. His claws lazily dance across the flaky wood of the large teacher’s desk as his thoughts drift to the past. Even now, in spite of everything, his fond memories of his children still retain a special place in his heart.</p>
<p>Nancy had usually been the one, his treasured favourite, to distract him back then and their special playtime together reflected that favouritism too. Furthermore, his focus on his other children gradually lessened as attending to his favourite little girl occupied the majority of his free time. However, babysitting Quentin at the end of the day eventually became a normal occurrence courtesy of his busy father. During such times, his boy demonstrated an unimaginable level of desperation, a needy thirst for affection and an eagerness to please, which he was unable and unwilling to ignore. He was almost ashamed having not given his second favourite greater attention, especially with that eager mouth of his.</p>
<p>The mere memory of a younger Quentin between his legs, smooth lips encasing his mushroom tip while glistening hazy blue orbs locked with his own, causes his dick to excitedly twitch. Unlike those times however, he had no intention of playing nice with his naughty boy. Any semblance of wholesome love between him and his children disappeared when those ungrateful shits tattled and caused his untimely death.</p>
<p>“Shit!”</p>
<p>Slightly startled, Freddy directs his gaze toward the noise to find an enraged Quentin eyeing him with obvious distain. Smirking at the teenager, he properly greets his boy by voicing a teasing, “What’s the matter Quen? Don’t you like your dream?”</p>
<p>“My friends’ll wake me up in a minute.”</p>
<p>“Not this time,” he states matter-of-factly, his smirk widening as the confidence in those hazy blues mildly shrinks. “I’ve made… arrangements, so to speak, with the bitch that runs this place. You’re not leaving until we’ve finished had a chance to cat—”</p>
<p>“You’re lying,” Quentin rudely interrupts whilst holding his ground, his body language seemingly ready for anything.</p>
<p>“Am I?”</p>
<p>“You always do.”</p>
<p>“And you call me delusional? Heh. But you’re a smart boy, you’ll figure it out soon enough. Until then…” Deliberately trailing off, a flick of his claws sends his obsession fly forward and smacking face first into the dusty chalkboard. Next, after those long limbs are stretched outward, he animates the letters of the alphabet scribbled on the board such that they merge together and spring out to encircle Quentin’s ankles and wrists. Solid chalk shackles in place, he moves directly behind his prey where his hands tremble with excitement as he voices a maliciously chipper, “Shall we play a little warmup game to pass the time?”</p>
<p>“Sonofabitch,” his boy lowly grunts out in frustration, his captured limbs fruitlessly squirming and clawing for freedom. A few careful slices to the clothing protecting Quentin’s backside really makes his boy jerk though Freddy soon becomes too distracted by the beckoning call of pale, unmarred flesh meeting his sight. “Lemme down from here!”</p>
<p>Remaining silent for the sake of suspense, he places an ungloved hand flat against the center of Quentin’s back and a violent shiver quickly ripples against his palm. The younger immediately mutters his nauseating disapproval of being touched, per the norm, yet the smidgen of fear his obsession is now radiating has him slightly salivating. Fingers playfully walk along an arching spine as his imagination runs rampant with the idea of seeing his boy really tremble, those alluring blue orbs big and glistening with tears. Although, witnessing that kind of reaction, and perhaps one or two others, will not be obtained by his usual hack and slash methods.</p>
<p>A couple of scratches though to pretty up his boy is not out of the question either. Besides, with Quentin growing quiet—either because of bravery or hope, or a combination of the two—and his blades anxiously fluttering at his side, postponing the main event does not seem like too much of a stretch. Testing the length of his unwanted leash probably is not a smart idea, especially since the bitch could yank it at any given time. Nevertheless, such a threat is not going to prevent him from enjoying <em>his</em> time with <em>his</em> survivor.</p>
<p>Removing his palm, Freddy then raises his gloved hand and swiftly administers a small slash down the right side of Quentin’s back. His boy emits a surprised yelp, something familiar yet satisfying, as the four vertical marks and tiny blood trails add streaks of vibrant colour to his substitute canvas. Ensuring that his strikes remain shallow, his blades begin to slice through different sections of unmarked flesh. His prey perishing from blood loss, especially before their playtime truly commences, is something he needs to avoid for the time being.</p>
<p>Quentin, ever his smart little boy, is quick to catch on to his game and instantly stifles those sweet-sounding cries. This, by no means, deters him as that commendable defiance only encourages him to try new tactics. As such, sometimes there are prolonged pauses during his attacks while other times several slashes rain down on his target in a matter of seconds. Though Quentin merely tenses and barely utters a peep regardless, which is somewhat of a disappointing turnout, seeing the raw beauty of his handiwork is all the satisfaction he needs. In fact, the longer he stares at that oozingly ribbony-torn skin, the greater his urge is to lean in and taste it.</p>
<p>Flicking the flecks of skin and blood off of his blades, Freddy selects a particularly long slice wound and proceeds to press his burned lips to it. Feeling Quentin flinch yet again, though quite strongly this time, the younger cranks his head to the side and angrily hisses through gritted teeth, “What’re you doing?”</p>
<p>“M’just kissing your boo-boos,” he replies innocently, his breath seeming to elicit shivers from his boy. “Thought you’d appreciate that.”</p>
<p>“I don’t,” Quentin seethes while his clenched fists mildly shake in their binds. “<em>Stop it</em>.”</p>
<p>Chuckling at his prey’s plight, Freddy voices an obnoxious ‘no’ and gleefully resumes his ministrations. His lips, or what constituted as lips for him, pepper every nick and slice with butterfly kisses and the occasional suck. Like earlier, Quentin attempts to silence his noises but apparently his boy is unable to stifle everything this time. As a result, the faintest of whimpers intermittently reach his ears, their pleasant cuteness enticing him to spice things up a bit.</p>
<p>Said spice comes in the form of his tongue snaking out to lick at the seams of a curved wound, his teasing swipes periodically delving underneath broken skin. The heavily bitter, metallic flavour tastes oddly sweeter on his tongue but that is to be expected given the delightful circumstances. No victory tastes sweeter than being able to display his true power and have his boy completely at his mercy.</p>
<p>Only when his prey quiets down does he set his sights on a different cut and each time Quentin offers him a lovely hitched breath, a muffled whine or a foul curse. “You’re disgusting,” his boy abruptly claims, his nails now digging lines into the chalkboard. “Just fucking stop already.”</p>
<p>“Why?” Freddy knowingly questions between licks. “Aren’t we having fun?”</p>
<p>“No, I’m <em>not</em> having fun. And fun is being far away from you. Or, better yet, real fun is watching you die <em>permanently</em>.”</p>
<p>Freddy promptly scoffs from the death comment and elects to indulge the younger by saying, “Death never wanted me before. What makes you think I can die now?”</p>
<p>“I <em>know</em> you can. I don’t care how but I’ll find a way,” Quentin firmly states with an admirable amount of confidence, the burning drive of it reflecting in his shimmering hazy blues. “I’ll finish what I started in the real world and I’ll finally kill you for good!”</p>
<p>Temporarily abandoning his current task, he presses his bloodied lips right beside Quentin’s ear and nastily whispers, “I don’t think so. You and me… We’re gonna be stuck in here for a <em>long</em> time.” Whilst his teeth briefly latch onto a tempting earlobe, his gloved hand descends lower to palm a jeans-clad ass. “And I’ll make you regret getting in my way for the rest of eternity.”</p>
<p>“Heh. I doubt that…” Quentin then shifts his head to the side again, his ferociously serious expression mere inches from Freddy. “And you’ll <em>never</em> see or touch Nancy again.”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” he bitterly utters after a pregnant pause, his good mood continuing to diminish by the second, “but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost. I still have you after all…” A single claw then slices a sizeable hole down the back rise of his boy’s tight jeans, the slight tearing noise causing an ounce of alarm to appear in those hardened blue orbs. As his ungloved hand keeps Quentin from squirming, his claw effortlessly cuts through the second layer of defence—namely underwear—to teasingly poke around, which essentially rebuilds the depleted suspense in the air, before retracting altogether. “My favourite boy.”</p>
<p>“M’not yours asshole,” Quentin adamantly argues, his voice devoid of anything resembling fear or humility. “None of us were you sick fuck, and <em>that’s</em> why you’re delusional.”</p>
<p>Nearly deciding to slaughter his boy here and now, Freddy redirects his aggression elsewhere by worming a finger inside the recently created hole and stabbing it straight through a puckering ring of muscles. The startled scream Quentin releases slightly eases his anger though his yearning for retribution demands greater satisfaction; therefore, when one finger seems much too lenient, he inserts two more digits to join the first.</p>
<p>“You’re tighter than I expected,” Freddy remarks as his fingers struggle to mercilessly piston inside his naughty boy.</p>
<p>“Take them out!”</p>
<p>“No one’s claimed you yet.” It comes out like a statement rather than a question though a stronger sense of possessiveness washes through him regardless. “Looks like I’ll be your first,” he mumbles wickedly under his breath, the slickness of blood allowing his digits to slide in and out with less resistance.</p>
<p>Not apt to squander anymore of his time, Freddy roughly retracts his fingers, yanks his boy free from the chalkboard and then slams his quarry down, back first, atop of the teacher’s desk behind them. Concentrating his power, thorny vines quickly sprout out of the grimy floor to ensnare Quentin’s wrists together and keep them stretched above his head. Additionally, those kicking feet are bound and pulled off to the side in such a way that displays his obsession in the most accessible manner.</p>
<p>Trying and failing miserably to break free or close his legs, the younger belts out a demanding, “Let me wake up!”</p>
<p>“Scared yet?”</p>
<p>Quentin continues to squirm about, the flaky wood of the desk no doubt aggravating his cuts, whilst growling out a blaring, “<em>Fuck you!</em>”</p>
<p>“I’d rather fuck you,” he evilly admits, his knifes making remarkably short work of those damnable jeans and footwear which leaves Quentin’s lower half completely bare—save for a few minor scratches.</p>
<p>“N-No…”</p>
<p>Freddy briefly admires how that silky skin extends all the way up those lean legs and, of course, the soft looking appendage betwixt said legs. Clearly height is not the only area where his boy has grown and he idly wonders if Quentin has ever been with anyone at all after him. He hopes not as the idea of being the first and only person his boy ever experiences in such a manner will make this moment that much more impactful.</p>
<p>With deliberate slowness, he frees his confined arousal which springs forth and excitedly points straight at his obsession. A grin stretches at his lips as his eyes drink in the change in Quentin’s expression: the momentary hostility in those vexed hazy blues is replaced by fear and disbelief while bared teeth unclench and disappear from sight as a partially agape mouth conceals them. His boy looks thoroughly frightened, possibly more so now than ever before, which causes his ego to swell with immense pride.</p>
<p>“Y-You won’t do it,” Quentin trembly throws out while seemingly attempting to regain some semblance of his composure.</p>
<p>“Oh?” Intrigued, Freddy slinks into the space between parted legs and playfully trails his claws along his prey’s inner thigh. Muscles twitch and goosebumps swiftly appear beneath the metallic tips of his blades, the reaction inspiring him to dig his claws in enough to draw blood. “Why not?”</p>
<p>“B-Because… Because it’s not worth it,” his obsession eventually finishes.</p>
<p>A pitiful answer though nonetheless humorous and certainly worthy of a good, hearty cackle. “I beg to differ.”</p>
<p>Caressing Quentin’s hip with his gloved hand, Freddy lines up his manhood with a semi-bleeding entrance when his boy blurts out, “Kill me!”</p>
<p>He makes a show of pondering the suggestion for a minute prior to fixing Quentin with a Cheshire grin and claiming, “You’d like that too much. Besides, isn’t it about time we played a different game together? Something new and exciting? You used t’come up with some really creative games when you were younger.”</p>
<p>“Fuck off! You lying bast… Wait. No, no, don’t you d—<em>AH!</em>”</p>
<p>His gluttonous groan of pleasure is wholly drowned out by an extended, excruciating wail from his boy. The squeezing pressure hugging the first two inches of his cock is indescribable and has his eyelids fluttering with delight. Plus, as a bonus, his speedy entry seems to have further injured Quentin, every muscly tear and rip rubbing along his dick in just the right way. Fresh blood too mixes in with the old and allows him to slip deeper inside much to his prey’s displeasure. Once his pelvis presses flush against another, Freddy stops temporarily to fully savour despairing tears and a handsome face contorted in sheer agony.</p>
<p>“You’re <em>much</em> tighter than I expected. Heh. Guess that makes me your boyfriend now.” Evidently Quentin is in shock and unable to form a single word let alone a coherent sentence. It is rather thrilling to know that he can reduce his boy to such a miserably wordless state. “Speechless already?”</p>
<p>Gasping for breath, Quentin eventually gathers enough of his strength to voice a weak, “Y-You… Why? You monster…”</p>
<p>“No thanks to you kids,” Freddy bitterly puffs out while leaning nearer to his prey. “You turned me into one.”</p>
<p>“N-No. You were, ow, a-a monster… long before then,” his boy slowly declares, the familiar fiery edge in those watery blue eyes returning for a moment to bore into him. “You just never looked like one.”</p>
<p>“I was never a m—”</p>
<p>“It suits you,” Quentin stupidly spits out.</p>
<p>“Suits me? <em>Suits me?!</em>” he incredulously repeats, his fury nearly swallowing his patience until he realizes that his boy appears oddly hopeful now. Belatedly discovering what Quentin is trying to accomplish, Freddy spares a few seconds to calm his nerves before smirkingly saying, “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Clever boy, but you’re not getting outta here that easily.” If the younger thinks that angering him will earn him a swift death, his boy is sorely mistaken.</p>
<p>That meager shred of hope immediately vanishes from Quentin’s expression as his prey begins to subtly hyperventilate. Savouring his small victory, he collects the remainder of his winnings by starting up a steady pace, something equally rough and fast. His boy has zero time to prepare as he lays waste to the constricting, fleshy tunnel wrapped around his member. Those shrill cries gradually morph into pained sobs yet the change is of no bother whatsoever. In fact, the younger is unintentionally driving his excitement and joy to brand new heights.</p>
<p>“I should’ve done this sooner,” Freddy utters between grunts. “You sound just as sweet—”</p>
<p>“Sh-Shut—HAH! Ah… Shut up!”</p>
<p>“Is this better than what we used t’do?” he resumes in hopes of sparking similarly pleasing reactions. “D’you remember our playtime together when you were five?”</p>
<p>“<em>No!</em>”</p>
<p>Freddy speeds up his thrusts as a form of punishment toward the denial his boy spewed. “I know you remember it now. When all the other kids and teachers left, you and I—”</p>
<p>“STOP!”</p>
<p> “—would head downstairs while we waited for your father. You were always so happy having me all to yourself.”</p>
<p>“St-Stop,” his blubbering prey begs as stingy bangs partly cover those squinted hazy blue orbs. “Please.”</p>
<p>“And you responded so well to my praise and affection. Sometimes you were a little nervous, but a few kisses here and there,” he sweetly whispers with intentional slowness, “and you were putty in my hands.”</p>
<p>To accentuate his words, he forces his slickened length all the way up to the hilt, leans down and then plasters his lips over top of Quentin’s luscious ones. He knows full well that the other is not going to relax here which is one of the main reasons behind his actions. Since his boy is already uncomfortable, why not add another level of discomfort? This, after all, is meant to be a treat for him and a gruelling experience for his boy. Forcibly wrenching Quentin’s mouth open with two claws, he plunges his tongue through the gap and coats every touchable surface with his saliva.</p>
<p>Naturally his boy fights his slobbery kiss for the longest time until the younger abruptly squeaks into his mouth. Guessing the cause of the pathetic sounding noise, Freddy purposely angles his movement to spear the particular spot from moments prior. And four or five harsh strikes to that sensitive bundle of nerves apparently is enough to finally interest his boy in his vengeful power game.</p>
<p>Pulling away, Freddy takes note of the bright blush now staining Quentin’s cheeks and the bobbing hardness down below while uttering, “So dear old Mr. Krueger can still light your fire? I’m touched.”</p>
<p>“I-I don’t, ah, like it,” his obsession sobbingly sputters out around a squeaky moan. “I—Nngh!”</p>
<p>“Don’t lie t’me Quen,” he sinisterly voices in the form of a sing-a-long as two of his claws slice his quarry’s cheek. “You wouldn’t wanna get into more trouble now, would you?”</p>
<p>Quentin simply whines in reply, his cheeks completely aflame while his broken voice carries throughout the room. Humiliation suits his boy quite wonderfully and, with luck, the younger will not stubbornly dismiss this soon-to-be memory. Of course several, potentially painful reminders do possess an appetizing appeal to them too.</p>
<p>“CLAUD! DAVID!” his prey loudly yells between bruising inward thrusts. “JAKE! STEVE! <em>PLEASE WAKE ME UP!</em>” The pure desperation, much rawer and unique, in his hoarse voice provides Freddy with exceptional amusement. And those pesky friends, the ones that dare to thwart his attempts to punish and torture his boy, will not be a disruptive nuisance to him this time.</p>
<p>“Just you and me here Quen,” he helpfully reminds the frightened younger. “No one can save you from me.”</p>
<p>Already feeling Quentin tightening up again, he gets in a few last-minute jabs before the younger stills and violently screeches. Warm stickiness instantly erupts to splash the both of them as the other emits hiccup-like sobs throughout the entirety of his orgasm. With his own release hovering on a thin edge, he forces his member as deep as it can go and then blows his top. Quentin offers but a disapproving whimper from being defiled further and slumps against the desk breathlessly as Freddy pilots through his euphoric high. It has been much too long since he last indulged his carnal desires and the copious amount of essence flowing from him mirrors this fact.</p>
<p>Retracting his slightly deflated length with a squelchy pop, Freddy looks upon his dazed survivor with a prideful smirk. A sweaty Quentin, seemingly defeated, breathes raggedly through bleeding lips as his semi-glazed, bloodshot eyes gaze blankly at the ceiling. His wrists and legs weigh heavily in their restraints, the skin rubbed raw and bleeding in select areas from where the thorns nicked. Most notably, however, is the mess of fluids between his parted legs, some of which continuing to sluggishly drip to the floor. This image alone, one which will be engrained inside his mind forever, truly was worth it and the real torment has yet to even start.</p>
<p>Extending his ungloved hand out, he gently muses Quentin’s dampened curls while muttering a mocking, “Good boy. See how fun that was?”</p>
<p>His boy shrinks away from his touch, avoids eye contact and croaks a fatigued and miserable, “Lemme wake up.”</p>
<p>“We’re not done yet.”</p>
<p>“No, no, no, no,” Quentin whiningly cries, his thrashing and tears renewing yet again. “No more.”</p>
<p>“Yes more,” Freddy gleefully counters whilst patting his crying boy on the knee. “We need to make up for lost time.”</p>
<p>“Make up <em>what?!</em>” his obsession hoarsely exclaims as those hazy blues, weary and pained, latch onto his own. “You got what you wanted.”</p>
<p>Plastering on a fake pout, he then tries to disguise his eagerness as he asserts, “But there’s so many fun games left to try. You can’t be tired of playing with me yet? Not after one little game.” When Quentin wordlessly turns away, Freddy elects to use a different approach to hopefully reignite the seemingly endless supply of fire his boy possesses. “Then again, I suppose I could find one of your friends to play with instead.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you fucking touch them!”</p>
<p>Smiling approvingly at the determined flames now dancing behind unshed tears, Freddy rids Quentin of the remainder of his clothes whilst admitting, “They’re not as fun to play with anyway. Not like you.”</p>
<p>Next, he frees the younger from his binds only to reposition his boy on the sullied and grungy floor. Thorny vines make a second appearance to bind the younger’s thighs and ankles to the floor while his wrists and forearms are tied behind his back. Invisible binds are an alternative option, one of many really, but such a thing would spare Quentin from the necessary pain his boy rightly deserved.</p>
<p>Minutely admiring the sad ball at his feet, Freddy cards his fingers through stringy hair and yanks Quentin closer to his exposed groin. “You remember how to do this, don’t you Quen?”</p>
<p>The younger merely nods but a quick tug of those chocolate locks receives a grumpily short, “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“That’s my good boy. Now why don’t you show me how much you remember?” In lieu of obeying his implicit command, Quentin chooses to hesitate which urges Freddy to take matters into his own hands. Summoning additional vines from underneath the floor, the plants then worm their way past a pair of pursed lips and force an unwilling mouth wide open. Thorns preventing Quentin from fully biting down, Freddy jerks his boy’s head about in his grasp and says, “Why d’you insist on making things difficult for yourself?”</p>
<p>The younger narrows his eyes, the tiny act of defiance looking rather cute as opposed to intimidating, prior to clamping his lids shut. Is his boy finally accepting this? It is far too soon for that although, thinking on it now, perhaps Quentin believes this will end sooner if he plays nice. Freddy inwardly laughs at such a foolish possibility though it matches perfectly with the blind hope his boy so loves to cling to. What an adorably naïve child he has.</p>
<p>Keeping his grip tight, he then pushes Quentin’s face directly into his pelvis while simultaneously forcing the younger to swallow his member whole. From here and then on the true torment of his one and only favourite boy commences with absolute gusto: bringing Quentin rapturous, agonizing pleasure until his boy loses every speck of his fighting spirit.</p>
<p>Firstly, however, some exclusive service to him is needed. Intermittent moans of disgust accompany the warm, wet suction cocooning his length in a pleasurably loose vice. Quentin frequently tries to veer his head away or bite down but his useless efforts earn him nothing more than bleeding gums and a surely sore scalp. After forcing the younger to gulp down every tiny drop of his seed, and keep it down, he then diverts back to his original goal of destroying his boy.</p>
<p>Leisurely strokes of his palm and object insertion—both of which generating a delicious amount of shameful mewls, distressing pleas and dispirited tears—eventually bring the climax tally up to three. At this point, Freddy is wholly convinced that the younger truly will never wake up until he allows it. Maybe pleasing the Entity every once in awhile does hold decent value if future rewards yield similar favours to draw upon.</p>
<p>For the fourth round, Freddy groans contently on the floor while watching Quentin, in all of his youthful glory, ride his dick like a bound cowboy. Thorny vines continue to be his favoured restraint since their appearance and sharpness are not only symbolic but also lovely to see binding his boy. Fingers and claws lift and yank Quentin along his slippery length while his boy looks strangely subdued. General fatigue is the most likely culprit for this abnormal behaviour but another option, one regarding submission, is infinitely less boring.</p>
<p>Quentin is beginning to become compliant, whether unconsciously or no: his hips rock in time with the occasional downward thrust; his myriad of pleased noises is no longer stifled; his own hardness aches with inarguable need; and his blissed-out expression possesses only but the tiniest sliver, if that, of burning hatred. Indeed, the fight is quite literally being fucked out of his boy.</p>
<p>The younger attempts to shield his face, or maybe look elsewhere, when noticing his blatant and smug staring; however, the vines wrapped around his neck prevent Quentin from looking anywhere except at the ‘monster’ beneath him. With each penetrative strike, Freddy intentionally hits his quarry’s prostate which, like always, produce chuckle-worthy reactions. Plus, innocently pestering the flustered teenager about his swollen problem supplies a generous boost to his already overinflated ego.</p>
<p>“You’re close again, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>Frantic head shakes answer his question first followed by a cryingly, “I don’t wanna cum <em>anymore!</em> I don’t… I can’t, please—”</p>
<p>“Shh… Of course you can.” Shifting into an upright position, Freddy begins rigorously bouncing his boy in his lap. “And you <em>will</em>.”</p>
<p>A symphony of raw, throaty moans resound by his right ear as Quentin practically slobbers on his shoulder. “Fr-Freddy, please, I don’t wanna—”</p>
<p>“You used to love it when I bounced you on my lap during storytime,” he recalls aloud, his comment receiving a disapproving growl which is broken seconds later by a strangled whine. “You were better behaved back then too.”</p>
<p>Evidently the younger is too preoccupied to wholly comprehend his recollection and simply continues singing in his ear—not that Freddy will complain about that. “Hah! P-Please!” Quentin pleads yet again for mercy. “Ah, y-you… ba-bastard. Nngh…”</p>
<p>“And now you’re a mouthy brat,” Freddy claims with an inwardly indulgent sigh, his last few words punctuated by two sharp thrusts each.</p>
<p>Said thrusts act as the final nail in the coffin for Quentin where the younger unleashes an agonized howl as a fourth orgasm rips through him. His oversensitive cock, looking much paler than before, spews but two globs of seed prior to pitifully drooping. Meanwhile Freddy sinks his teeth into a sweaty neck and sucks hard, the extra stimulation causing Quentin to emit another, albeit feeble, cry.</p>
<p>After put the finishing touches on his hickey, he allowed Quentin to flop backward where the teenager lays motionlessly in the center of the classroom. Freddy believes that the younger has never looked more beautiful devoid of all clothing and covered in cuts, dried blood and flaking cum. Speaking of cum, a few rapid strokes is all the stimulation he requires to coat Quentin in another layer of sticky filth.</p>
<p>Recovering fairly quickly, he fondly eyes their combined mess and mumbles a sugary, “Such a messy boy.”</p>
<p>His boy is drifting in and out of consciousness now, those glassy hazy blues seemingly not knowing whether to stay open or closed. Unfortunately this also seems to signal the end of their playdate together since an unresponsive Quentin does not gift him with pretty noises or snippy remarks. Although, even those things are in shorter supply now and the Entity is bound to rudely interject sometime soon. In any case, his unique form of torture appears to be a <em>monstrous</em> success.</p>
<p>Willing away the now useless vines, Freddy crouches down beside the sprawled-out body and curiously observes as those exhausted hazy blues lock onto his before rolling backward. Uncaring if Quentin can actually hear him, his index claw lazily runs along a marred chest whilst he softly utters, “And you had so much energy before… Oh well. How can I be mad when you were such a good boy for me? Always my special baby boy…”</p>
<p>Straightening up, Freddy uses his dream powers to clean the mess clinging to his body before redressing himself. It is a real shame that all messes, of different varieties, are not as easily dealt with. Glancing back at his exhaustedly abused boy, he flutters his blades some before saying, “Don’t forget to come see me again soon Quen. I always look forward to your visits.”</p>
<p>Farewell imparted, he leaves his survivor to suffer through the last bits of his lingering consciousness before awakening from his disgustingly, painful nightmare.</p>
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